


come to bed (i'll be your girl)

by 1000_directions



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Comeplay, Crossdressing, Feminization, Just Wholesome Shit Like That, M/M, Makeup, Rimming, Sexual Roleplay, time capsules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 16:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18951760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: When they found the time capsule with Steve’s old Captain America costume and Peggy’s SSR uniform, Bucky didn’t think that they would be using them for sex games. Heshould’vethought that, because this is him and Clint, and this is who they are. But it honestly didn’t cross his mind until Clint fingered Peggy’s tie thoughtfully and said,Bet you’d look good with red lipstick smeared across your face.





	come to bed (i'll be your girl)

**Author's Note:**

> written for mandatory fun day! prompt: clint as captain america
> 
> this is the same clint and bucky from [filthy as charged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607908) and [sex jail](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18224375). it's not necessary to read those before reading this.
> 
> thanks to the mcu bad decision buddies discord for sprinting me through this, even though i was more of a meanderer than a sprinter :)

Bucky is squirming so much that he’s pretty sure he’s going to pull a muscle, and he doesn’t care even a little bit. He blinks up at the ceiling and pants an unbroken stream of _oh-shit-oh-_ shit _-oh-god-oh-shit-_ Clint _-oh-fuck,_ but no matter how much Bucky tries to rush him, Clint won’t speed up as he delicately, lazily brushes his tongue over Bucky’s hole.

“You’re killing me, Clint,” Bucky gasps. He goes to scrub his hand over his face before he remembers he’s wearing lipstick, and Clint will be furious if he fucks it up _again_.

Clint pops his head out from under Bucky’s skirt, cowl slightly askew, and says, “C’mon, babe, call me by my name.”

Bucky’s dick jumps at the sight of him and at the commanding tone in his voice, the intensity of his gaze where his eyes peek through the holes in the mask. _Jesus_ , it’s fucked how hot he is for this.

“Say it,” Clint says, a little sterner this time. He nudges Bucky’s thighs farther apart with his elbows, so Bucky feels splayed, flayed, wide open and completely on display. “Say my name.”

“Captain,” Bucky manages to moan.

When they found the time capsule with Steve’s old Captain America costume and Peggy’s SSR uniform, Bucky didn’t think that they would be using them for sex games. He _should’ve_ thought that, because this is him and Clint, and this is who they are. But it honestly didn’t cross his mind until Clint fingered Peggy’s tie thoughtfully and said, _Bet you’d look good with red lipstick smeared across your face_.

“So what do you want me to do?” Clint asks him, idly fisting his own cock.

“Lick me,” Bucky says, running his tongue over his own lips, tasting the waxy lipstick Clint had applied for him. He doesn’t know why they both get off on this, but god, do they get off on this.

“Lick you where?” Clint kisses the inside of his knee. “Here, darling? Lick you here?”

“ _Clint_.”

“Nuh uh.”

Bucky is going to fucking explode if he doesn’t get to come soon. Clint’s been teasing him for close to an hour, riling him up and then settling him back down, telling him he’s so pretty, so mouthy, and demanding to be called--

“Captain,” Bucky says with a dry mouth, and his words are just a whisper when he starts begging. “Please. _Please_ put your tongue in my ass, Captain America.”

“Filthy,” Clint mutters. “Do you salute the flag with that mouth?”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asks.

The only answer he gets is Clint finally, _finally_ breaching him with just the pointed tip of his tongue, and it’s fucking too much and not enough, and he can’t stop squirming, trying to fuck himself on Clint’s tongue and work it deeper into himself. But Clint only lets him wriggle around a little bit before his large, competent hands press Bucky’s hips back into the bed, keeping him pinned and happily, torturously trapped.

“You’ll get what I give you,” Clint says, and Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers. It’s so hot and embarrassing to be so completely at Clint’s mercy, and sometimes he hates how much he loves it, but he really, really loves it.

Bucky tries to catch his breath, tries to conjure up a memory of what Peggy was really like back then. It’s hard at first. His thoughts are so scattered, and he feels so wanton and depraved that it takes a few minutes for his memories to shake back into place.

He remembers the imposing severity of her competence, but he also remembers the mischievousness of her. She was quick and deft and commanding and witty and fierce. She was the boss, always.

Bucky’s gonna be the boss.

“I’ll take what I want,” Bucky says gruffly. He threads his fingers through the straps of Clint’s cowl and tugs slightly. “You know your word, baby?”

“Asparagus,” he says with a smirk. The cowl frames his face perfectly, and Bucky looks at his bright eyes and his strong jaw and the light dusting of freckles across his nose and just wants him. He never wanted to fuck Steve, it was never about that for him. But oh boy, does he ever want to fuck Clint as Captain America.

“Peggy Carter didn’t take any shit,” Bucky says. “ _Especially_ not from Captain America.”

“Are you gonna boss me around, ma’am?” Clint asks with a goofy grin, ostentatiously flexing at Bucky, showing off his obscene upper arm muscles even though the cheap fabric of his costume. “Is a darling little thing like you gonna order Captain America around, sweetheart?”

Without another word, Bucky _pulls_ on Clint’s straps and manhandles him into place, forcing his face roughly between Bucky’s legs so that his nose bumps into Bucky’s balls and makes him groan.

“I’m only interested in one of your muscles, Captain,” Bucky says, gritting his teeth. He loops his leg around Clint’s upper back, digs his heel into the flesh between his shoulder blades. “Show me how well you can work that tongue of yours.”

And oh. _Oh_. Bucky comes apart under Clint’s mouth as he begins to enthusiastically, thoroughly eat him out. His tongue is a series of devastating contrasts, sharp and prodding, then softer and more inquisitive, and Bucky’s rim stretches to accommodate Clint’s eager, fastidious tonguefucking. He feels himself getting wet and sloppy, can only picture the spit on Clint’s chin but he feels it dripping down his crack, he _hears_ the noise it makes when Clint fucks back into him.

“You’re doing so good,” Bucky murmurs, holding Clint tight against him. He slowly begins to close his legs around Clint’s head, checking for any sign of protest, but Clint just moans happily and laps at Bucky’s puffy rim. So Bucky tightens his thighs around Clint’s head, holding him in place, smothering him with his thighs and his ass, and still, Clint keeps moving his tongue, fucking into Bucky with short, rapid juts of his tongue. And Bucky doesn’t even try to hold still, he lets his hips go where they want as he jerkily rides Clint’s face, twitching and cursing each time Clint changes up his rhythm. He’s so hot and so responsive, his thighs are raw and oversensitive from the vinyl scratch of Clint’s cowl but he _loves_ it, and he’s worried he might shoot off without even meaning to.

And Christ, it’s plenty hot on its own, but it’s even hotter knowing that Clint is so fucking gone for it, too. Each time Clint moans, the sound vibrates through Bucky’s thighs, reverberating deep inside of him. Bucky doesn’t know how he ever got so lucky, but Clint loves servicing him and is devastatingly good at it.

Bucky’s skirt is rucked up around his waist, and he pushes up on his elbow to get a better look at Clint. His eyes are closed, and he looks blissed out and debauched, and even as Bucky loosens his grip and gives him the opportunity to relax, to breathe, Clint stubbornly dives back in deeper, hungry and depraved and desperate to make Bucky feel amazing.

“Put your hand on me,” Bucky murmurs.

Clint does pull back then, blinking his wide, unfocused eyes at Bucky. His jaw is slack, and his chin is damp, and he breathes heavily through his open mouth. Bucky runs his fingers possessively down Clint’s cheek, tracing the curve of his cowl, claiming his flushed, taut skin and catching his drool. He feeds his fingers into Clint’s passive mouth, and Clint’s eyes flutter shut as he moans, suckling on the metal.

Bucky reaches for Clint’s hand and guides it to his heavy cock.

“Work me off while you suck my fingers,” Bucky orders quietly.

Clint whimpers and tightens his hand around Bucky’s dick, slurping messily at his fingers. He humps the bed a few times, whining piteously as he takes Bucky’s fingers farther down his throat.

“Do you want to get off, too, sweetheart?” Bucky asks gently. Clint nods and blinks his eyes open, and his eyelashes are just a little bit wet and spiky. “You’re okay. Why don’t you rub against the bed a bit? Feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t come yet, but see how close you can get. I want you to feel good while you’re making me feel good.”

Clint nods again, and a tear falls from his eye as he determinedly swirls his tongue around Bucky’s fingers. He twists his wrist to work Bucky’s cock, and he moans softly as he grinds his hips down into the bed. Two more tears trickle down his cheek, one slow, the other faster, and he sniffles quietly as he fucks his hips against the mattress. He breaks so beautifully, and as soon as Bucky gets off, he’s going to destroy Clint.

“Doing great, sweetheart,” Bucky grunts, fucking up into Clint’s slick grasp. Clint flushes at the praise and redoubles his efforts. The straps of his cowl are drenched with spit, and he keeps his watery eyes open and focused on Bucky.

Clint mumbles something that Bucky doesn’t understand.

“Didn’t catch that, Captain,” Bucky says sweetly, rocking his hips desperately to fuck Clint’s fist. “You’ve got a mouth full of fingers, darling. I need you to enunciate.”

Clint takes a deep breath in through his nose and shudders as he exhales, and his tongue is so deliberate in his clumsy mouth as he tries again.

“Come on my face.”

Bucky’s head falls back as he groans loudly and fucks his hips up recklessly. Clint always knows how to push his buttons, even when he’s fucked-out and spacey.

“You want me to come on your face, Captain? Want me to mark you up?” Bucky asks, and Clint nods eagerly. “All right, then. If that’s what you want, then get me off.”

Bucky slowly pulls his wet fingers out of Clint’s mouth, and Clint scooches in closer. He continues to strip Bucky’s dick with his cunning grasp for a minute, and Bucky is so close he can barely keep his hips still when Clint pauses.

“Did I say you could stop?” Bucky asks breathlessly, but the calculating look on Clint’s face makes him pause. “What’s up?”

“I have an idea,” Clint says, his voice ragged. “Can I try something?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, and he touches his clean right index finger to the tender curve of Clint’s eyebrow. No matter what they’re playing at, no matter what else is going on, he really does love Clint so, so much. “Anything you want, darling.” 

Clint furrows his brow consideringly, and then he uses both of his hands to reach for the skirt that’s haphazardly rucked up around Bucky’s torso. He’d nearly ripped the thing trying to wriggle into it, and he couldn’t get the zipper up even a little bit, but if Clint was putting in the effort to dress up as Captain America from cowled head to booted toe, the least Bucky could do was put on a tie and a skirt and some lipstick.

Clint’s hands are reverent as they roam over Bucky’s thighs, and he straightens the ill-fitting skirt the best he can, aligning the waistband and smoothing the thick, unforgiving material partially down over Bucky’s lap. Bucky’s dick bobs plaintively as Clint shuffles him around a bit, getting him just so. Clint can’t quite get the skirt to cover Bucky’s dick and balls, the wet crown of his cock just barely peeking out from under the hem.

“Pretty as a picture,” Clint murmurs, and he gathers the skirt in both hands, bringing them together to cradle Bucky’s dick, and--

Oh.

Clint’s got the skirt wrapped around his dick and is slowly jerking him with both hands, and the fabric is scratchy and blissfully unforgiving against his skin, just this side of too much. It feels fucking _unreal_ , the warm pressure of Clint’s hand, the thick give of the fabric, and they both quietly look down at Bucky’s lap and watch the way Clint moves the fabric around him.

“Are you getting off on this?” Clint asks.

“Fuckin’ _absolutely_ I am,” Bucky breathes.

“Shit, me too,” Clint admits. “Why is this so hot?” They both watch Bucky’s dick disappear into the rolls of the skirt and then poke out at the top again as Clint works him, and just the sight of it makes Bucky whine.

“Who cares?” Bucky manages to moan. “Don’t stop.”

He feels so easy as he rocks into Clint’s grip, his hips jerking erratically as he chases the teasing roughness of the fabric. He’s wanton and hedonistic, completely at Clint’s mercy now, and it’s ridiculous how quickly their power dynamic can shift, but Bucky just trusts Clint. Trusts him to be careful, trusts him to take good care of Bucky and make him come his brains out.

“I’m close,” Bucky mutters. “If you still want me to come on your face, you’re about to get your shot.”

“My _shot_?” Clint repeats, waggling his eyebrows like a beautiful idiot. He ducks and rests the head of Bucky’s cock on his lower lip, so Bucky feels the whispery reverberations of his words when he says, “I’m ready for my closeup.”

Just a few more thrusts against Clint’s warm mouth is all it takes before Bucky is shooting off with an inhuman growl. His whole body quakes, but he forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch his come land on Clint’s cheek, his lower lip, his pretty pink tongue. His dick flexes a few more times as Clint keeps jerking him, making sure to get every last drop out of him, and a little more come dribbles out, smeared across Clint’s chin.

Clint blinks up at Bucky, quiet, serene, and Bucky breathes in and out wildly. He runs his thumb along Clint’s cheek and lower lip, collecting his come and dragging it towards Clint’s mouth. Clint’s lips part easily, sucking his thumb into his mouth while holding eye contact with Bucky, and Bucky groans helplessly as Clint flicks his tongue over Bucky’s skin, cleaning his own come off of Bucky’s finger.

“Jesus,” Bucky whispers. He pulls his thumb out of Clint’s mouth, but Clint’s lips stay parted, ready to receive. It’s almost too much. Clint hasn’t even come yet.

Bucky uses the corner of his skirt to wipe the rest of his come off Clint’s face, and Clint closes his eyes and lets himself be cleaned up.

“You’re something else,” Bucky says in wonderment, and Clint cracks a strained smile at that.

“Just doing my part to serve my country,” he says, licking his lips and pulling himself up to a sitting position. “Can I touch myself now, ma’am?”

“You’d better kiss me while you get yourself off,” Bucky murmurs, and Clint wraps Bucky’s tie around his hands a few times and tugs lightly until Bucky is nearly bent in half, his mouth finally close enough for Clint to reach. Clint kisses him deeply, hungrily, and Bucky can taste his own come in Clint’s mouth for a moment before his tongue chases it away. He hears the sound of Clint’s hand on his cock, feverishly hurtling himself towards his own climax, and he soothes Clint’s feverish groans with his tongue.

“Close,” Clint mumbles into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky cups his face with his metal hand, holding him still so he can thoroughly, painstakingly lick into every crevice of Clint’s mouth, kissing him deeply as Clint shakes apart.

“Come for me,” Bucky whispers against his mouth, and he pulls back far enough to see Clint’s closed eyes, the shuddery shadows that his pale eyelashes leave against his cheek, the beautiful furrow between his eyebrows as he grunts and starts to come. Clint pants his hot breath into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky strokes his cheek and wraps an arm around his back, holding him close until he groans and stops shaking.

“Awesome,” Clint whispers after a bit. “That was fucking awesome.”

He blinks at Bucky and then flops backward on the bed, grinning up dopily. There’s red lipstick smeared all over his mouth. He’s a beautiful mess.

“Let’s get you out of this,” Bucky murmurs, finally unclasping the straps and pulling the cowl off Clint’s head. There are faint red lines on his skin showing where the mask was too tight, and his hair is all sticking up and crazy looking, and Bucky fondly tries to smooth it back down again in vain.

“That was great,” Clint says happily. He wipes his hand off on Bucky’s skirt, and Bucky glares at him for a moment before deciding that he doesn’t really care.

“You know Peggy Carter’s gonna come back from the dead just to murder us if she ever finds out what we did with her uniform, right?” Bucky asks, and Clint shrugs.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghost,” Clint says with the breezy confidence of someone who never actually met Peggy. “I’m Captain motherfucking America. Come at me.” 

“Is that different from coming _on_ you?” Bucky asks. He rolls onto his side so that he’s face to face with Clint, and he kisses his favorite freckle on Clint’s forehead. “Because I already came on you.”

“I remember,” Clint says, loosening Bucky’s tie. “I was there. Hey, was shower sex a thing in the forties?”

“Not a thing for me,” Bucky says. “I didn’t have shower sex until I met your adventurous ass. And if you think I’m ready to have sex with you again right now, you’re greatly underestimating my admittedly brief refractory period.

“Worth a shot,” Clint muses, kissing Bucky’s collarbone, and his breath is so gentle and sweet over Bucky’s skin.

“But you know,” Bucky says, thinking about how good it would feel to get clean, “I was known to have a bit of fun in the bathtub in my time.”

“Yeah?” Clint asks, brushing his thumb casually over Bucky’s right nipple and making his breath hitch. “You wanna fool around with me in the tub, baby?”

“I got you all dirty,” Bucky says with a smile. “Might as well get you all clean.”

“You will never get me entirely clean,” Clint objects. “But I suppose you’re welcome to try.” He rolls his shoulders and then does a reverse bridge to flip himself back to his feet, which is stupid and unnecessary and so hot that Bucky’s spent dick jumps. “C’mon, my lady.”

“Right behind you,” Bucky says, but as soon as he stands up, Clint scoops him up in his arms. It’s dumb, it shouldn’t be hot, but somehow it’s just _hot_ as Clint effortlessly carries him into the bathroom.

“Listen,” Clint murmurs as he turns on the water. “We’re throwing out the skirt. We’re _burning_ the skirt. But you should keep the tie and the lipstick.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” Bucky says with a thrill running down his spine, and he sits on the counter and waits for the tub to fill.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/185118815884/title-come-to-bed-ill-be-your-girl-link-ao3)


End file.
